


Boy, I'll Hunt You Down

by AndreaLyn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2020-09-01 02:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20250376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: It turns out that when you sleep with a man's youngest, then steal his prized stallion to escape, your face ends up on a wanted poster. When the man who got you in that situation goes into the bounty hunting business and comes hunting you down, it's usually not a good sign.Lucky for Michael, Alex Manes isn't the kind of man who plays by his father's rules.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to estel_willow for looking over this, and to all the wonderful cheerleaders who helped me fuel my love for the Western genre to turn this little tumblr ficlet into a nearly 10k piece. Title comes from _Hunt You Down_ by Kesha! 
> 
> Yeehaw.

When Michael Guerin is eighteen years old, he strikes out to make something of himself.

He goes west and makes it almost all the way to Arizona, at which point he gets a job on the Manes ranch as a stable hand. 

It turns out that it’s not the horses he has a touch with, but all the equipment around the farm. He can take the creak out of any door, he can fix any machine, and he’s able to mend broken things that have no business being mended. He has a touch. The horses don’t seem to mind him, but he isn’t able to break in a single stallion the way the Manes boys can, and he certainly can’t hold a candle to the youngest’s talents.

Woodworking and equipment aren’t the only things that Michael finds he has a touch with.

“You keep fussing with that,” he says to Alex Manes, when he catches him trying to get the barn door back on its hinges. “It’s a two-man job and I’ve been here the whole time working. When were you going to ask for help?”

“You offering?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Michael approaches, the back of his neck still wet and cool from pouring water all over his forehead to try and chase away the summer heat. It’s dripped down over his white linen shirt, making it stick to his chest.

He can see Alex staring at him, his eyes following the way the water sluices over Michael’s skin. It looks as though Michael isn’t the only one around here with interests that go beyond the normal, but he doesn’t do anything about it that day. He helps Alex to hang the door back on its hinges, and when the job is done, he lets his fingers trail over Alex’s bicep to squeeze, leaning in to congratulate him on a job well done.

This close, he can see every bead of sweat on Alex’s upper lip, and damn if Michael isn’t eager to kiss every one of them off. He’s parched as sin, but he’s not sure whiskey is going to do a damn thing to help him out. His mind is telling him the only thing that’ll help quench his thirst are those beads of sweat on Alex’s lip, or maybe the ones he can see running over his neck, and the other ones he imagines to be sliding down his back.

He doesn’t taste a thing. Instead, he settles his cowboy hat back on his head and tips it in salute to Alex.

“See you tomorrow, partner.”

Tomorrow, he helps Alex with the saddle that he’s working on. He’d finished with his jobs in the field earlier that morning and made his way back to the stable to see Alex working with the leather. This time, Michael’s attention is on his fingers and how dextrous and deft they are with every determined movement.

It’s like Alex never does anything without a purpose.

It leaves Michael wondering whether he’d touch his body the same way.

The days pass like this with a steadiness that Michael can’t complain about. Within months, he’s earned himself a somewhat steady place on the Manes ranch. The elder three Manes brothers tolerate him, but Alex seems to truly enjoy his company. He even seeks it out. One night, when Michael is in the hay bales, cleaning up for the day, he hears a whistle from down below. 

Leaning over the ladder, he finds Alex standing there, hay in his hair, and holding a bottle of unmarked liquor.

“You’re not trying to blind me, are you?” Michael asks, lips curving up with amusement.

Alex tips the bottle one way, then the other, the brown liquid sloshing as he does. “I’d be blinding myself in the process. I wouldn’t take that risk,” he says, not moving his gaze from Michael. “Not when there’s things I like looking at so much.”

Maybe, in the last few months, Michael’s figured out that he’s not the only one looking, his gaze rarely wavering. He’s not the only one wanting to touch. Now, the question becomes: _What are they going to do about it?_

The liquor is an excellent first step.

Michael makes his way down the ladder, Alex’s hands warm on his back as he helps him those last few rungs. Maybe they won’t even need the alcohol to get them there, but Michael’s not turning down a free drink. When Alex takes a drink straight from the bottle, Michael decides it’s the best thing in the world, watching his lips surrounding it, his tongue working the last little drop off his lips. 

“You haven’t been asking for my help, lately,” Michael comments, taking the bottle from Alex. “That mean you’re tired of me being around?”

“My father’s been sending me out on errands, trying to get me ready for a career.”

Michael sits with a _thump_, ass hitting the hay bale beside Alex as he wraps his mouth around the bottle and tips it back to swallow three long gulps. When he pulls it away, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and catches Alex staring. 

“Yeah? And what’s that? Stable hand? Town looker?” Michael quips, his eyes sparkling with the ease of the flirtation. 

“Bounty hunting. It’s what my eldest brother’s doing, it brings in decent money,” Alex admits and reaches for the bottle. When he does, his fingers brush up against Michael’s and Michael could swear that his heart stops for one terrifying moment.

He releases the bottle, but he sways a little further forward into Alex’s space. “I still think you’ll make more money with that face of yours. Being as pretty as you are, I’m sure a brothel would have you,” he jokes, eyes half-lidded as he stares at Alex’s lips. 

“That’d be a problem.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I’m very particular when it comes to who I want to sleep with,” Alex murmurs, his voice low as he shifts with a low breath, drifting further into Michael’s space. “Right now, that list begins and ends with a single name.”

“Mm? And what name would that be?”

Michael bites his lip and reaches out to push the bottle down, easing it to the ground and out of the way. He doesn’t think he’s reading into this, so he’d rather not waste good liquor. Near them, the horses whinny and nicker, but all Michael can focus on is the sound of Alex’s breathing picking up pace.

“Michael Guerin,” Alex breathes.

“Present and _willing_,” he guarantees, cupping Alex’s neck as he pins him to the haybale, crawling on top of him to steal a kiss. Clearly, they’ve both been thinking about this for some time by the way they frantically start to work on stripping one another of every last piece of clothing they possess.

Their items of clothing tumble together in a dusty pile, and no sooner than Michael’s handkerchief hits the ground, he opens his mouth to ask if Alex has any oil for them when he sees the small container in Alex’s fingers.

“That’s pricey shit,” Michael huffs, fingers trailing over it. 

“I might have had an inkling I would have an event to use it for,” Alex whispers, uncorking it to slick up his fingers. They haven’t talked about this, but they don’t need to. It’s like in the span of a few moments, the shared look they have is enough communication to understand how they want to do this. 

Michael sets his hand on Alex’s fingers and takes the oil from him to spread it on two of his fingers. “This time,” is what he says, because he wants to make sure Alex knows that he doesn’t intend for them to always do it this way. “Tonight, let me take care of you. Tomorrow, you can do the same for me.”

He waits for Alex’s nod, but once he gets his permission, there’s less waiting as his impatience kicks into high gear. That doesn’t mean he’s inclined to rush. They’re only going to get the one first time and Michael doesn’t want to speed through it. He slides his fingers inside of Alex and revels in the way his body twists, how he moans so prettily for the touches, soon begging for more. 

“Michael,” Alex breathes out. “Please. You said, you said you’d t-take care of me…”

Michael grins down at him, arching his brow. He absolutely did make that promise and he intends to keep it, but there’s no harm in hearing Alex spell it out. 

“Tell me how I can do that.”

“Fuck me, Guerin,” Alex demands, which is all he needs.

He grabs Alex by the hips to drag his body nearer, shoving one leg around Michael’s hips to pull him in, starting a steady rhythm that has Alex gasping his name every time he tries to meet Michael for a kiss and only makes it for a few seconds before he collapses back. He’s so addled that he barely even thinks to get his fingers wrapped around his own dick until a few seconds pass, which is truly endearing to Michael’s ego.

“That’s it,” he soothes, as he slides his palm up Alex’s chest, marvelling at how beautiful this man is. 

When Alex pulls him down for a kiss, Michael lets himself fall into his sway. With every snap of his hips, he feels like he’s pushing deeper inside Alex, like he’s etching a space for himself in Alex’s life that’ll never be taken up again. It’s a heady rush of a thing and it’s so damn distracting that Michael stops paying attention to his surroundings.

There’s a couple of problems with that.

Namely, the top two being that there’s no lock on the barn door and Jesse Manes carries one hell of a big gun around. 

Too late, he hears the cock of a shotgun, which triggers his flight instinct as he clocks Jesse Manes storming towards him with murderous intent in his eyes. Michael slides out of Alex, yanks up his trousers, and makes a split-second decision. He grabs his cowboy hat, presses one last firm kiss to Alex’s cheek, and grabs the rope for Manes’ prize stallion. He loosens it in a hurry, ducking down to barely avoid having his ear blown off before hauling himself, bareback, on the stallion’s back. The two of them escape. Michael’s pants are half-on, he’s not wearing a shirt, and he’s riding a horse that he knows is bound to get him in trouble.

Still, he’s alive and he’s got all his limbs, so that’s better than nothing.

“Guerin!” he hears Alex’s voice on the wind. “I’ll find you”

That’s the trouble, isn’t it? After that, he has a feeling that being found would put one hell of a spoke in his wheels, seeing as he can’t imagine Jesse Manes would be so glad for that to happen.

Funny how Michael doesn’t even know the half of what’s coming to bear.

* * *

The next town, his face is on a wanted poster, and there’s no ‘or alive’. 

He can’t say he’s surprised. 

Jesse Manes had always been a bastard throughout the whole time he’d worked on that farm. Three of his four sons hadn’t been any better, but _Alex_. Michael exhales slowly as he remembers what it felt like to push inside Alex and feel like they were completely connected.

He yanks down the posters, shoves them in his bag, and starts thinking about his next step. Michael needs to find a safe place to hole up for a while, until the danger dies down or he can come up with a plan to get the bounty off his head. Harlan will definitely be coming after him; Daddy’s eldest bounty hunter would probably love to deliver Michael’s head on a platter to him. 

Michael doesn’t have much kin in the world, but there’s one option. 

He starts heading further west with a plan in mind. If all goes well, it’ll keep him alive. In the absence of Alex in his life, alive is the second-best option.

He winds his way through three different states before Michael swallows his pride and writes to his cousins, who have settled in California. Holed up in a hotel, he awaits the Evans’ answer, which comes a fortnight later via telegram. According to Isobel, there’s always a place for him there, which means that he’s on his way. 

The day he rides into town, he doesn’t go straight to the farm, but instead makes his way to the saloon. If he’s going to spend any real amount of time in town, he’s got to know whether the ambiance will suit him. 

Of course, on his way, he takes down every last poster that has his face on it, figuring Max will appreciate the kindling for later. Stuffing them in his bag, he sets foot in the Wild Pony, eyeing the patrons at the tables before deciding the beautiful bartender is worth far more of his time.

Michael sidles right up to the bar and settles his hat down in front of him.

“Whatever you’re about to try, I’ve heard it before.”

Michael can’t help his laugh. “What?”

She looks at him from where she’s polishing the glass. “You’ll think up some clever little pick-up line and try and woo me with it, either to get me into the back room or earn yourself a free drink,” she says. “It won’t work. I’ve heard them all.”

“Have you heard ‘I’m Michael Guerin and I’m new in town’?” he offers, watching her carefully to see if the name registers.

It does.

There’s a twitch of recognition in the way her brow lifts, then how her lips part. She doesn’t seem inclined to grab the local sheriff’s attention, though, which already earns Michael’s respect. So, she knows what that name means, but she doesn’t want to do anything about it. “Pay your bills, don’t drink yourself dead, and no violence inside the Pony. You abide by those rules, we won’t have any trouble.”

Michael pries off his dust-covered glove to offer his hand to her. 

“Deal.”

She smiles. “Then you and I have no trouble. I’m Maria DeLuca, and what is a man like you doing in a town like this?”

“Cousins of mine work the ranch nearby,” Michael says, gesturing towards the west as she pours him two-fifths of whiskey. “I wanted to lay low, get a job. That’s all I want,” he says, even if she’s already promised no trouble if he abides by her rules. “I’m here to keep my head down and do my work.”

She pours herself a drink and settles on a stool on her side of the bar. “It’s awfully strange,” she shares with him, lowering her voice. “It’s not often that you see a poster without someone offering the bounty for the outlaw being alive.”

Michael’s expression sours as he recalls Jesse Manes, that no-good, dirty, shitty son of a bitch. 

He has to hope that Alex got off that ranch, because he can only imagine how terrible it’d be, being left behind under that man’s roof. “Haven’t you heard?” he asks as he knocks back his shot. “I’m all kinds of special.”

She pours him a drink on the house and Michael’s not sure whether it’s an appreciation, some form of respect, or if she’s flirting with him, but he’s not in a position to turn down a drink from a beautiful woman. He pays for his next three, anyhow, so she’ll know that he’s good as his word. 

If he intends to stick around this place, he’ll need to make sure he pays his debts. 

He leaves DeLuca’s saloon before he gets so drunk that he can’t ride his horse, seeing as the reunion he’s about to have isn’t one he wants to do drunk. It’s an hour’s ride out to the Evans’ place, which bodes well for a hideout spot. They’re not likely to be surprised by anyone, especially seeing as they sit atop a small ridge, giving them the high ground.

From the top of that hill, he sees a flash of blonde hair and beside her, a white cowboy hat. Isobel and Max know he’s coming, or at least they should given his black hat and the way he raises his flask so it catches the sun just right.

They almost look _pleased_ to see him when he dismounts, so his letters must have reached and they’d know to expect him. 

“Michael,” Isobel greets him, dusting her hands off on her calfskin trousers. “I was just about to head into town and see if you were taking up all of Maria’s time,” she says, eyeing him as he pries off his hat and hangs it on the hook. “What the hell happened?” she demands, hands on her hips.

Max has wandered out behind her, giving Michael an apologetic look. 

“I guess we’re just skipping pleasantries these days?”

“When your face turns up all over posters that have a price on your corpse? Yeah,” Max admits, and fuck, but Michael hasn’t missed that disappointed look Max always gets, as if he’s more father than cousin to him. 

They’ve always been generous about his proclivity for danger when they’d been younger, but with their parents out of the picture, they’ve become responsible adults of late. Michael’s not entirely sure how honest he ought to be with them, but he knows it will all come to light sooner or later, so best he tell the story in his own words.

“I fell in love with the wrong man,” is all he says. 

Isobel gives him a searching look. “And the posters?”

“His father’s way of telling me I’m not invited to Sunday dinner,” he deadpans. “I was hoping to trade on your hospitality and stay a while. That confession of mine change that?”

“The guest room upstairs is ready for you,” Isobel says, so while they both look slightly shocked and unsure what to do with Michael’s news, they’re not about to pitch him on his ass to the dust. “Sheets are all changed, there’s a bottle of whiskey in the drawer, and we set out some of Max’s old clothes for you.”

He nods with sincere gratitude, because not many would do this for him. “If it’s all right by the both of you, I thought I’d take a tour of the land and the barn, first. See what I can do to contribute around here, so I’m not just suckling on your hospitality.” Besides that, it’ll give his mind a distraction from the fact that he’s essentially in hiding. 

Max makes a gesture that he can do what he likes. 

Michael’s on his way to do exactly what when Isobel stops him with a hand at his elbow, making him falter in his step. For a long while, she doesn’t say anything, then she steps into his space and hugs him so tight that he can barely breathe.

“Don’t go doing anything so stupid that you get your face on a wanted poster again,” she warns.

“Aw,” Michael croons, smirking at her. “You care about me or something?”

He absolutely deserves the right hook to his shoulder he gets. He still yanks her in for another hug, pressing a kiss to her temple even if he’s much dirtier than Isobel would usually allow in her personal space. She lets him go and Michael takes off wandering the property, riding Jesse Manes’ prize horse in a light canter as he explores it and takes note of projects that need doing. 

If he’s going to be here, he wants to pull his weight. That way, the Evans’ won’t be so inclined to kick him out and he can make a safe home for himself.

By the time he’s finished, it’s late and when he’s done stabling the horse, Michael’s exhausted. It’s been a hell of a long day, but the last few months have felt even longer, especially when he thinks about how lonely and cold it is at night. Now, the days don’t feel half as full without Alex Manes’ handsome face and incredible smile to look at. 

That night, he falls asleep in the haystack like he’s trying to hold on to some piece of the life he’d had to flee.

He’s never going to get the night with Alex back, but at least he’ll always have the memories.

* * *

Five years later, Michael’s gone and made himself something of a pillar of the community. 

He doesn’t exclusively stick around, seeing as he picks up jobs every other season to line his pockets with cash in the event he needs to take off again suddenly, but he always finds his way back to the Evans ranch, both because it’s where he feels most welcome, but also because it’s the safest place in the world for him.

At least, it had been – until today. 

“Guerin,” calls Maria, “you might want to mosey out of here.”

Michael glances up from the table that he’s been playing cards at, tipping his black hat up somewhat, giving her the head tilt as he asks her, silently, how much trouble he’s about to be in. In response, she pours five fingers of whiskey, which means on that scale of one to five, if he doesn’t hustle, he’s not leaving with his life.

“Gentlemen,” he says, rising swiftly. “Y’all keep my funds, but I’ll be coming back to play you for them later.” 

He makes a hasty exit out the back, but it’s not quick enough to prevent himself from hearing a familiar voice. “Maria DeLuca, just the woman I wanted to see…”

It’s like Michael’s been shot, for the visceral force of the punch that strikes him in his gut. He nearly walks right back into the saloon, but there’s two problems with that. The first being that his face adorns the majority of the Most Wanted posters in the room and all of a sudden, people might be fairly interested in that, given someone asking questions with a bounty hunter’s star on their vest. 

The second being that the voice of said man belongs to Alex Manes, bounty hunter extraordinary. Even though it feels like his feet are tarred and stuck to the earth, he tips his hat lower over his face and forces himself out.

Alex. What is Alex doing here? 

Given how Michael and Alex had left things the last time they’d seen each other, he suspects he already knows the answer is nothing good, especially seeing as he knows that Alex went into the family business. He should leave and get the hell out of there, but he doesn’t. He sticks his back against the wall so he can try his damnedest to eavesdrop.

“I heard a rumor that there’s an outlaw in this town.”

“Oh?” Maria’s voice is cool and nonchalant, bless her, but Michael knows that Alex won’t give up so easily. “Probably plenty of them. Who’s truly innocent these days?” He can’t see her, but he can hear the flirtatious tone in her voice. Michael assumes she’s batting her eyelashes at Alex, though it’s a waste of her time.

“I’m not here to judge the guilty or the innocent,” Alex’s flat reply tells Michael all he needs to know -- Maria’s charms definitely aren’t working on him. “I’m looking for a man. Michael Guerin.” Is that a hint of desperation Michael hears in his voice or is he making that up?

There’s a long span of silence and even Michael knows enough to know that it’s a dead giveaway that someone knows something.

“Never heard of him,” Maria replies, with the soul of a con artists, bless her. 

“You sure about that?”

“He’s handsome,” Maria says, which means that Alex must be showing the poster. “You know, in a dirty, down by the river, smells like a horse kind of way.”

Michael rolls his eyes and wonders if he should’ve paid his tab a little sooner. Maybe her opinion of him would lift. He needs to get going or Alex is going to see him riding away, but that little stubborn egotistical voice in his head is telling him to at least stay and hear what Alex has to say about that.

“If you’re into that kind of thing.”

From what Michael remembers, Alex had been _very_ much into it. He takes that as his cue to leave, because he really is going to get himself caught if he lingers any longer. 

He slips out the back, yanking down a few more wanted posters with his face on them, grimacing as he shoves them in his pocket. Fancy that the man responsible for getting him on those posters has rolled into town. Michael suspects that Alex is in town to collect on his bounty now, because that’s the kind of thing that would happen to him, even when he’s trying to keep his head down and stay out of trouble. He stashes the papers in the well when he arrives back on the ranch, all rage and fire, earning both Max and Isobel’s concern. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Isobel demands, glancing up from the accounts she’s been going over.

“Alex Manes is in town,” is the first thing he says, hanging his hat and heading inside the kitchen to make sure he’s out of sight from all the windows in case Alex didn’t roll into town alone and he’s been followed. “I don’t know if he’s after the bounty, but best be cautious,” he says, loading up his pistol. He doesn’t tend to carry it too often, but if he’s got to defend his life, then he needs it.   
Isobel and Max peer at him cautiously. They don’t know the whole story, just that the Manes family have it out for him because Michael fell in love with their youngest and there’s a price on his head for it.

”He hasn’t sighted you?”

”No, DeLuca gave me the heads up before things turned ugly, I slipped out the back,” Michael assures, sipping from his flask. “I’ll head out to the fence I’ve been meaning to patch up, camp out under the stars for a while. When he’s gone, one of you can come and get me. I don’t want this trouble touching you. You’ve both been overly nice, letting me stay with you with the bounty on my head…”

”You’re our family, Michael,” Max retorts. “It’s the least we can do.”

“We’ll do our best to throw him off the scent, but from what I recall, Alex has a particular habit of finding you.”

There had even been a time when Michael had enjoyed being found by him, but that’s long ago and neither of them are those young idiots – not anymore. Those few times he’d ventured off the ranch in the thoughts that he’d be safe, he’d inevitably have a close call with Alex. Every time, Alex would roll into the same town on his heels, like he was somehow connected to him and always knew where he was. Michael would run again, not giving him a chance to even see Michael, let alone have a conversation.

It takes him a few hours to pack up all his things, but when he goes to the stables to get his horse, he’s not alone as he slides the saddle on his girl. Isobel’s made her way out there, draping her shawl over her shoulders. 

“You know, you two never talked after the incident.”

Michael chooses not to look at her as he works on tacking the horse. “Funny how your face all over a wanted poster would do that.” 

Isobel glances from Michael to his horse, then back to him. “You’re right. I can imagine why the Manes family would be so angry at you. That doesn’t mean Alex is.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Michael says, because no matter what he might hope or feel, there’s no point in him having those emotions if he ends up with a bullet through his brain for the trouble. It means he lies low, waits for Alex to leave town, and goes right back to this pathetic life that he’s cobbled together for himself. “His father wants him in the bounty hunting business and what better way to prove yourself than finding an easy mark like me?”  
It might be depressing as hell to admit to that fear, but at least he’s alive to fear it.

Isobel squeezes his shoulder, giving him her moral support as always, but willing to let him make his own mistakes. “We’ll send a runner out when the coast is clear.”

“Much appreciated,” Michael says, and begins his ride out until he’s two miles from the house where the fence has been in disrepair for months.

* * *

He sets up camp and the first night, he doesn’t fix a thing. He cooks a stew by the fire and drinks himself to sleep, which has the unfortunate side-effect of making him dream about the last time he and Alex had been alone together. In the morning, he wakes chilled and alone and it makes him angry. 

The next day, he takes out that anger on the fence, ripping it to shreds because in order to build it back up again, he needs to tear it down first. By mid-afternoon, he’s earned himself more than a few scrapes, but has the framework mostly in place. 

He’s in the middle of hammering in the posts when he hears footsteps over his shoulder. “If you’re here to hurry me up, there’s no point in me finishing until you give me the all clear,” he bitches at Max over his shoulder, hissing when the barbed wire catches his thumb and draws blood. “Unless that’s what you’re here to do, in which case, I got another day of work before I can head back into town.”

”Guerin.”

Michael steadies himself as he rises to his full height. He’s got his back to the man, his bleeding thumb between his lips, but his other hand hovers at the handle of his gun, inches away.

“Guerin, I’m not here to bring you in.”

Michael turns slowly to find Alex Manes standing there. Michael thinks that if this is his last day on earth, then at least the last sight he sees is the most beautiful thing in the world.

”You’re not an easy man to find.”

”That was on purpose, seeing as your father made sure that every damn bounty hunter in the country would be after me.” Michael spits, sending dust flying, just thinking about the $500 bounty on his head. The fact that he would send his own son to collect it is salt in that wound, especially seeing as there’s no ‘dead or alive’ when it comes to the price on Michael Guerin’s head.

Jesse Manes would never be that kind. The only word under that bounty price is DEAD.

“You never even gave me a chance to talk to you before you took off,” Alex protests. “I know it’s not like we had much of a chance, but I thought you’d hang around. I told you that I’d find you. I wanted to talk.”

Michael scoffs as he turns, sinking down onto the stool he’d brought with him. Alex has made it very clear that he’s not armed, both in the fact that his holster with both guns is several feet away and he’s stripped down to a loose linen shirt and a pair of tight trousers that wouldn’t hide a knife if they even could.

”What was there to talk about? You and I got caught fucking in your Daddy’s barn and I’m the one who ended up on the wanted poster.”

”I’m his son,” Alex says, voice clipped. “He just beat me instead of going to the trouble of having my face sketched and printed. Besides, you stealing Dad’s prize horse definitely didn’t help matters. You spoiled his youngest son and took his pride and joy in the same day.”

“I thought sons were supposed to matter to fathers more than horses,” Michael says, setting his hammer down. “How come the horse is the pride and joy and not you?”

Alex scoffs and shakes his head. “You clearly don’t know Jesse Manes.”

“So, you’re not here to bring me in for the bounty?”

“I’m here for the opposite.”

Michael’s curious enough to listen to whatever it is that Alex is proposing. He makes a gesture for him to go on, bending down to pick up his bottle of whiskey, drinking to give himself some liquid courage.

“I know my Dad’s methods. I know how he’ll come after you. I even know where he’s focused his hunt for you. You and me are going to make sure that no one comes after you again.” Michael raises a brow to ask how, but Alex gets there first. “There’s a few other criminals with your rough physical description out there and I found myself one of them. We’re going to have to shave those curls of yours for a little, at least until we can convince everyone that you’re dead, but once we haul in one of my other bounties and get your poster down…”

“Then I’m a free man,” Michael says. 

“Free to do anything you like, go anywhere you want,” Alex agrees, and after a moment, adds, “Be with anyone you want to be with.”

He hears the hitch in Alex’s breath when he makes that offer. 

“What if the only place I’ve ever wanted to be is by your side?”

It’s the exact right thing to say, given how Alex’s face lights up with relief and determination. “Then I’d say it’s a good thing I’ve been looking for a partner.” Michael knows that he’ll have to tell Isobel and Max, he’ll need to shave his head (god help him), and it won’t be easy to avoid Jesse forever, but going out there with Alex to get that price off his head, riding side by side into the sunset?

“Then you’ve got a partner, long as you want him,” Michael says, leaning forward to shake on it, brushing his thumb up and over Alex’s hand when they cement the agreement.

Alex looks hopeful and as handsome as ever. It’s stirring up old feelings that Michael had long thought gone. It’s been years since he’s actually spoken to Alex, but it turns out that Michael as much in love with him as he ever has been. He follows the hold that Alex has on his hand, pulling himself flush against Alex’s body.

“This time around,” Michael says, his voice pitched low even though the only thing eavesdropping on them might be the moon hanging high in the sky, “we’re gonna invest in rooms with locking doors.”

“Shotguns of our own,” Alex replies, his lips curving up with the softest of smiles. 

“Mattresses instead of hay bales,” Michael agrees, prying his hat from his head and setting it on Alex’s head before he leans in to kiss him. 

Alex stumbles back a few steps before he catches himself, sliding a hand to the small of Michael’s back to haul him back in. Within seconds, Michael’s made the hat tumble off Alex’s head so he can replace it with his fingers. He can’t believe he’s gone so many years without kissing Alex when it feels as necessary as breathing, but when Alex pins him to the blanket on the ground, he has the feeling that it’s not going to be a problem. 

He can already tell that Alex takes care of his people. Lucky for Michael, now that he’s his partner, he’s one of them.

* * *

With an agreement between the two of them to work on getting rid of Michael’s bounty, now comes the time to put the plan into action. Instantly, Michael regrets all of it, mainly because they’ve gone through all the arrangements and have come to the dreaded one – cutting off his curls. Here they are, now, with Michael in a chair and Alex poised atop him.

“This is going to hurt me so much more than it hurts you,” Alex is saying, morosely, a straight razor in his hand. 

Michael’s struggling not to fidget and twitch so that he doesn’t get the sharp edge of a razor in his neck, but he’s not entirely sure how Alex is going to be the one who’s suffering when they’re about to cut off all of Michael’s hair. 

“Really? Because I think it’s _my hair_,” Michael snaps.

Isobel is watching from the corner. She’s been highly suspicious of the plan, but had been the one to fetch the shaving cream and the bowl of water, along with the razor. “Someone do it, or I will,” she snaps. Max is downstairs readying the wagon that Alex had brought, along with the corpse in the coffin.

Maria had come to bring a message about what Alex had brought into town with him, intending to let Michael know that he didn’t have to hide. She’d run into Isobel and the two of them had been the clever deciding pair that had allowed Alex to ride out to the wilderness to make his pitch to Michael.

Why she’s there the next day with a few red spots on her neck that her bandanna doesn’t quite hide is one of those things that Michael doesn’t ask about, just like he doesn’t ask when he wakes up and sees Maria going to the outhouse with Isobel’s shawl around her shoulders. 

It runs in the family, Michael supposes. Of course, neither of them ever talks about it and Maria still dates some of the local boys, so whatever’s happening there clearly isn’t a reliable thing.

Alex gives Michael one last apologetic look. “Sorry, sweetheart,” is all he says, before he starts to shave off the curls, letting them fall to the ground. Michael chooses not to look at them, fearing that if he did, he’d shout for Alex to stop. 

Instead, he closes his eyes and lets the inevitable happen.

Soon, the scrape of razor to skin stops and he feels the brush of Alex’s thumb against his head. The bolt of lust that goes through him is unexpected, especially when Alex drags his blunt nail over to the nape. Michael opens his eyes and looks to Alex, grateful there isn’t a mirror. “Well?” he asks. “How’s it look?”

“Different,” Maria admits. 

“Worse,” Isobel adds.

Alex’s eyes are half-lidded and his gaze is on Michael’s lips. His hand hasn’t moved, but now he’s stroking his fingers over the short hair, rubbing his scalp steadily. “I don’t know,” Alex murmurs. “I think it feels pretty good.” Michael’s breathing out and trying to reconcile the fact that Isobel and Maria are still in the room with the way that Alex is making him feel, especially when he scratches his thumb against the nape of his neck.

“It’ll be an adjustment,” Michael gets out roughly. 

If they didn’t have a time-pressing matter to take care of, Michael would kick Isobel and Maria out of the room to find out what it feels like to get his mouth on Alex, sucking his dick while Alex runs both hands over Michael’s newly-shorn head. They do have business to get to, though, because the body in Alex’s wagon is decomposing and the last thing they need is anyone asking questions about timing. 

“You know the story?” Alex checks with Maria.

She nods. “Michael Guerin had the bad luck of running into your pistol when he was sneaking out of the saloon today. I heard the shot,” she narrates, “but when I got out there, he was already face down. Your new partner over here made sure your back was covered.” She turns to Michael, giving him a curious look. “What name are you going by?”

“Evan Michaels,” he announces proudly.

Isobel groans. So does Max from downstairs, so that means the wagon must be ready for him and he's within earshot. 

“It’s going to be at least six months before it’s safe for Michael to look like himself and use his real name,” Alex says defensively. “I don’t wanna be calling out someone else’s name when we’re together.” Alex looks up when they hear the creaking of floorboards just outside the doorway. “Is everything ready?”

Max nods. “The body’s in the wagon and I did some mild facial adjustments to make it so that his nose and other parts aren’t looked at.”

Michael can’t help his amused smirk. “You beat the shit out of a corpse?” Flustered, Max goes red, which isn’t the point and Michael ought to make that clear. “I appreciate the lengths you’re all going to for me.”

“It’s your freedom, Michael,” Isobel says softly. “You didn’t deserve to have Manes try and take it from you like that. Besides,” she adds sweetly, “Max wouldn’t let me be the one to pummel his nose in.” She leans in to kiss his cheek, rubbing his newly-shorn head like it’s for good look. As she goes, she gives a thoughtful hum, glancing back to Maria and looking impressed. “Maybe Alex is right. It feels decent.”

“Let me have a go,” Maria says, darting forward. 

At one point, there are five hands on his hand (Alex had to go and get greedy) and that’s about five too many. “Okay, all right, enough!” he snaps at them. “Can we please go? I’d prefer to end today without a bounty on my head, instead of the lot of you rubbing me like you think it gets me off.”

There’s a chorus of disappointed sounds, but they all take their hands off of him. 

“Thank you,” Michael snaps, collecting his things and ignoring the mirror. “Alex?” He holds out his cowboy hat to Alex, because he can’t wear it (seeing as it’s his trademark), but he’ll be damned if he plans to let it go. On their way out, Michael tips that cowboy hat up just a little so he can lean in for a kiss, grateful that they hadn’t touched any of his facial hair (though Maria did give it a bit of a clean).

It’s not the first kiss since Alex came back, but it has a funny way of feeling like it is. Michael suspects it’ll be a while before that too-good-to-be-true feeling goes away. 

“Come on, I want to get this over with,” Alex says, and leads them out to the wagon. 

Michael’s donned brand-new clothes care of Max, has one of Isobel’s paisley handkerchiefs tied around his neck, and with the oil he’s worked into his facial hair, he looks tidy and proper. Without a hat and with his shorn-hair, he’s a new man. 

That _is_ the whole point. 

He loads up into the wagon, leaning down to fiddle with his boots. There aren’t many folks who know what he sounds like or what he walks like, so now that he’s managed to change his appearance, he ought to be able to escape the bounty so long as he lays low and so long as they never run into one of the other Manes boys. 

Alex has said he’ll worry about the latter, so long as Michael takes it seriously. He digs out one of the flyers from his pocket and smooths it out over his thigh to stare at the drawn reflection looking back at him. He moves his fingers up to his hair one last time, lamenting his lack of curls. 

He can tell that he’s sulking visibly, because Alex glances over to him, adjusting the cowboy hat on his head. “I told you it felt good, and I meant it,” is all he says, voice low. “Later, I’ll show you just how nice it feels when you’re down on your knees. Okay?”

Shiver running down Michael’s spine, he breathes out. “Okay,” he agrees, a little stunned by how blunt Alex is. Maybe five years has added some confidence and pepper to his flirting, but it’s hardly something Michael’s going to complain about. 

Of course, Alex has gone and left him with one _hell_ of a problem, but he talks himself down with a reminder that if this little ploy doesn’t go well, there’s a rope with his name on it waiting for him at the sheriff’s station. When they get the horses stopped outside of it, Alex hops down, giving Michael a pointed look. 

“You’ll let me do all the talking, right?”

Already playing the part, Michael nods. 

“Good,” he says. “Now help me with the body,” he says, and lets his voice pitch up a little louder for those lingering around. “Shame about Guerin,” Alex says smoothly, “but that’s what happens when you try and run.” Michael moves quickly around to the bottom of the body’s feet, grabbing him and helping to haul him inside. 

He can hear the chatter around and he can feel the eyes on him. While he hasn’t got close friends, there’s still the men he plays poker with and the patrons of the saloon. While he’s feeling fairly comfortable in his fancy clothes and his new hair, he still keeps his head down and hopes that the little tweaks (like the kohl Isobel smeared on his eyes to make them seem droopier and darker) will work.

No one shouts his name. No one starts accusing him of foul play. Everyone keeps going about their regular business, which should be a bit of an insult, honestly. Would it have been too much to ask for someone to drop to their knees and wail in agony that Michael’s been shot?

“What’ve you got, boys?” the sheriff asks when Alex pushes inside with the body.

“Michael Guerin,” he says, pulling the bag off the criminal’s head, curls bouncing back. “He’s in a bit of rough shape, we had a run-in outside the saloon. Then, he tried to run…” Alex takes out his gun, spins it, and then slides it back into the holster. “Well, it worked out for my partner and I. Right, Evan?”

Michael nods, knowing that his role in this is to be the supporting act.

The sheriff rounds the counter and takes up the wanted poster, then peers at the man they’ve brought in. The hair really does look like Michael’s own and the build and height are a similar thing. Alex must have been looking a long while for this man, in order to try and put things right, which makes the five interceding years seem like nothing at all.

“Well, then,” the sheriff says, heading back to the safe so he can dig out his money. “You want to send the news to Jesse Manes?”

“I trust you to do it,” Alex replies calmly, standing there unflinching. Michael almost can’t believe that it’s working, but he’s standing there watching the sheriff count bills into Alex’s palm. “I’ll be home to visit him eventually, but you can send the telegram if you like. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know the bounty’s been claimed, and I’m plenty happy with the money.”

“And five hundred,” the sheriff finishes counting. “We’ll get him in the coffins, though not sure we want this one open.” His sideways glance looks almost sympathetic. “That’s quite the number you did on his face.”

Michael can see Alex losing his composure, so he leans in to hold out a hand for the money, pinching his side to try and get him to hustle this along. The longer they stay here, the more chance there is of him getting one too many looks. 

“The situation called for it,” is all Alex ekes out. “Sorry to claim our cash and run, but we’re on our way through town in search of another bounty. Thanks for taking care of this one,” he says and Michael might be jealous of the way Alex lets his gaze linger on the corpse, but then, there are rumors that need to be fed.

Most people know that Alex had once had something with Michael Guerin. His partner’s being clever, that’s all. Still, it burns something jealous and awful in his gut to have to watch it. Michael walks out and steps out into the town a free man. He might not look himself and he might not be able to use his own name, but he’s got a set of guns at his back and nobody after his head.

Damn, it’s a good day.

“Come on, let’s not linger,” Alex whispers and pushes at Michael to get him back on the wagon once it’s been fully unloaded. Their things have been packed up by Max for a hasty exit in case they’d needed to run. 

There’s no need to rush out of town, but it just so happens to be the last place he intends to be. When that coffin goes out and they nail ‘thief’ under his name, Michael doesn’t want to have to look at it. Lucky for him, Alex is of a similar mind to get out as quickly as they can. 

They ride for hours and don’t stop until the sun falls. Alex posts the horses near a little bluff and digs out the blankets so he can start to prepare a fire for the night. Michael isn’t sure how he can help, but he takes off Isobel’s handkerchief and watches for a long while, still in awe that this is his life now. 

Eventually, he gets to work. Kneeling in the dusty dirt, he ruins Max’s nice trousers, but he helps to get the fire going and manages to get a pot of stew going, digging out the bread that’s been packed for him. Reclining back on the blanket, he watches Alex in the firelight, who’s doing his best not to stare back at Michael – and failing. 

“You were my first, you know.” It’s not the topic Michael thought they’d pick, but he’s interesting. “I think that’s why my father got so furious,” Alex admits. “Until he caught the two of us together, I think he still held out hope that I’d be like my brothers. Faithful to the family name, fall for some pretty girl, have children to foster the legacy.”

Michael picks apart some of the bread, giving Alex a fond smirk. “For my sake, I’m real pleased that didn’t work out.”

“Same here,” Alex replies with a warm smile over the fire. “I haven’t had anyone since,” he adds. “I never really thought anyone could compare. You don’t have to assure me of the same, I know that I couldn’t ask that of you and I wouldn’t. It’s your future I’m after.”

“You already got that,” Michael promises, reaching for the bowls so can pour some dinner out for the both of them, shuffling closer to Alex’s side so that they’re pressed hip to hip. He reaches over to take off the hat from Alex’s head, running his fingers through Alex’s hair to fix it, and he’s pleased to say that Alex is every bit as handsome now as he had been five years back.

Maybe even more so, now that he’s out from under his father’s shadow.

“Eat up,” Michael encourages, using his bread to get as much stew out of the bowl as he can. “I got a promise to keep.”

Alex raises his brow, seemingly confused, but Michael eats as fast as humanly possible so he can take the bowl out of Alex’s hand, pin him to the blanket, and slide down his body so he pull down Alex’s trousers and wrap his lips around Alex’s dick. When it doesn’t seem like Alex is taking full advantage of the hair he’s supposed to be, Michael grabs him by the wrists and forcefully plants each palm on the side of his shorn scalp.

Soon enough, Alex gets with the program.

He flexes his fingers, dragging blunt fingernails over Michael’s scalp, and all the control Michael thought he had starts slipping away. Bowed over Alex with his mouth on him, he falters, but quickly regains himself until it becomes a give and take, a game that both of them are happy to win and lose in equal turns. 

Alex’s fingers slide and scratch and stroke and Michael fumbles.

Then Michael works his tongue in curls and caresses and Alex’s whole body goes taut with pleasure. 

Michael can’t help his satisfied little moan when he’s got Alex on the edge and manages to get him to topple over without any warning, swallowing him on his lip and licking it off eagerly, reaching back to feel the little divots that Alex has made. Those are some damned telling crescent shape marks, he knows, but he’s going to be extremely proud of them.

“Guerin,” Alex breathes out, slumping back. 

Michael takes care of his own arousal seeing as Alex seems too addle-minded at the moment (and Michael doesn’t mind, seeing as they’ve got miles of open space and nothing but time to make up for the years apart). He makes sure the fire’s dwindling down and tamped out before he makes his way up to Alex’s side, sliding in beside him. 

“It gets real cold out here in the desert at night,” Michael murmurs.

“It does,” Alex agrees. “Lucky me, I’ve got you to keep me warm.”

“Lucky for both of us,” Michael agrees, closing his eyes as he burrows into Alex’s body to carve out a space for himself. “I still can’t believe today worked the way it did, but _thank you_ Alex. Thank you for keeping true to your promise and finding me. Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice melodic and low, “for spending five whole years looking for someone that’d do the trick, and for not letting me bolt again.”

He’s about to open his mouth to keep going, but there’s no need.

Alex is asleep in his arms, his face slack and peaceful in his repose. Michael lets out a fond laugh and presses a kiss to the top of Alex’s head, grabbing the nearest blanket so they’ll stay perfectly warm throughout the night, curled up together. It looks like Michael doesn’t need to thank Alex for anything else, because Alex’s gratitude in the shape of him pressed against him is plenty clear about how he feels.

* * *

If someone had asked Michael back on that fateful day if he thought that Alex’s plan would’ve worked, he thinks that he’d have laughed in their face. Every single bit of his plan had required time, thought, and the kind of devotion that a man typically only holds for the things he loves the most. That Alex would do all that for Michael had been wild. 

Mad, you might even say.

It had worked, though. Three months ago, that had worked, and now Michael’s hair is finally growing back in enough to get the curl back. He’s currently resting with his head in Alex’s lap, the remnants of their breakfast on plates beside them, as Alex absently strokes his fingers through Michael’s short hair. 

“This one’s got a bounty of two hundred,” Alex says, sifting through the papers. Their own rule is that they don’t kill anyone, so they always try and bring in the worst criminals for the justice they deserve, all while lining their pockets in the process.

Michael smirks as he leans over to glance at it. “Only two hundred? Aren’t there criminals of my caliber out there anymore?”

From the look on Alex’s face, he clearly doesn’t think that’s the laugh riot that Michael does. Michael tips his head back a little more, seeking a kiss that Alex gives him, bending down to press a peck before he goes back to the papers.

“Or this one,” he suggests. “Arson that took the lives of a family. Four hundred.”

Michael takes the wanted poster and studies it for a moment before adding it to the rest of the pile. “What if I were to make a wild suggestion?” he says, tapping his fingers on the wanted posters. “Something that doesn’t get us _any_ money.”

Alex looks suspicious, but curious enough to listen.

“Isobel sent me a letter,” Michael admits, holding up. “Apparently, she’s having some troubles of the romantic persuasion and wants our help. It seems that she’s wanting to make her relationship serious, but she’s struggling to get her intentions across.”

“Our help?” Alex asks warily. “Why? She’s got Max and any number of men in that town would have her.”

Michael hands the letter back to Alex, seeing as it’s more than explanatory in that regard. Alex goes silent as he reads it, but Michael knows the exact moment he gets to the relevant spot because Alex starts making soft little sounds.

“Oh.”

“Yup,” Michael agrees.

And then, “_Oh_.”

“Indeed,” Michael drawls. “The kind of romantic problem that only men in such a sinful arrangement might understand.”

“Well, then,” Alex says and gestures for the stack of wanted posters at Michael’s side. Once he’s handed them, he tucks them away in his satchel, yanking at one of Michael’s curls to get him moving (and yelping). “We need to move, before the two of them lose five years like we did.”

Michael’s favorite version of Alex is the one where he gets take-charge and focused on a task, and this is no different.

“Yeehaw,” he deadpans and smirks as Alex gives him a light shove to get him moving.

Apparently, they’re taking a small break from being bounty hunters and are going back to Michael’s family so they can play matchmaker. There’s definitely a lot less money in it, but Michael thinks he’s going to have a lot more fun. Besides, he’ll be doing it with Alex at his side, so it really doesn’t matter what they do, so long as they’re together.

That’s what partners means and it’s the arrangement that Michael’s going to fight with his life to keep.


	2. sticking around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet little addition, written for Christi.

The bed’s empty when Alex wakes up, but the sheets are still warm to the touch. Michael can’t be long gone. He buries his face in the warmth of the linens for a moment, indulging in this peaceful respite from the road. It’s spring, which means that when the weather turns warmer, they’ll be back on the road.

Alex is hoping maybe this is the year he can convince Michael to hang up his hat.

Speaking of his hat, his clothes are gone and so’s his cowboy hat. Yanking on his trousers, a linen shirt, and his boots, Alex grabs the nearest wool blanket and wraps it around his shoulders, ambling down the creaky stairs towards the kitchen, where he smells fresh baked bread, being served alongside Maria’s honey butter.

“Morning,” he greets Isobel and Maria sleepily, rubbing at his eyes. Max isn’t present, but he rarely is these days, choosing instead to spend it at the Ortecho ranch next door, but Michael’s not at breakfast either and that’s the stranger thing. “Either of you seen Guerin?”

Maria nods as she boils the water, gesturing out back. “Elizabeth brought by one of the horses she’s been meaning to have broken in, Guerin said he’d take a stab at it.”

It’s still dark, but Alex wants to go find out why his partner has decided to vacate at the hour he did. He takes a piece of bread to go, letting it dangle from his mouth as he grabs Michael’s wool-lined coat from the hook at the back door, heading outside and rubbing his arms to fend off the cold from the early morning frost.

The sun’s only now beginning to peek up over the horizon, illuminating Alex’s breath as he wanders towards the barn. In the penned area behind it, Alex can hear Michael’s voice, steady and sure.

“Easy, girl,” he soothes, his head bowed low, giving Alex nothing to look at other than a cowboy hat and Michael’s body bent over the horse, stroking her flank.

He’s a fucking vision. The sun, soft orange and beautiful, illuminates Michael like he’s something out of a storybook. His fingers stroke the horse’s flank slow and steady, and his curls are peeking out from beneath the hat, now that they’re fully grown. The horse whinnies and tries to bolt and throw him off, but Michael gives the reins a slight tug and she calms.

Finally, Michael realizes he’s not alone.

“How long you been standing there?” he asks, the sunrise casting light on Michael’s face. He lifts his chin up towards the sky, basking in the warmth of the sun as it burns off the frost and dew from the ground.

That move elongates his neck. Alex’s fingers twitch as his side, eager to touch and taste and stroke.

“Only a few minutes,” Alex concedes. “I woke up to an empty bed this morning.”

“Aw, darling,” Michael mocks, making a mock-petulant face. “I put an extra blanket on you, you should’ve been warm.”

Alex lets himself into the pen, keeping a safe distance seeing as the horse might seem calm, but he knows that could change any moment. “It’s not the same as you.”

He’s dealing with a different type of warmth right now, watching Michael steadily control the ropes, easing himself off the horse, and leading her back to tie up the mare, feeding her an apple before he brushes his hands off on his trousers. “You missed me,” Michael says, without the teasing of before.

“Of course I did,” Alex murmurs, reaching out to tug Michael closer by the soft fabric of his linen sleep shirt. “You didn’t even bother putting on proper clothes before you came out here,” he says, sliding his jacket off to help Michael into it. “What got you out of bed so early?”

“I’ve been up a while, wanted to let you sleep,” Michael murmurs. “When I saw the sun coming up, I thought I’d get out here and be useful before I boiled some water for an early morning bath for the both of us, but you came and found me instead.”

Alex tears off the last piece of bread to hand to Michael, chewing his own, and giving him a besotted smile.

“What?” Michael asks, like he’s not sure why Alex looks that way.

“Let’s stay this year.”

“What? Alex, what are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to go West this year. Let’s leave the bounties to someone else.” He lifts his thumb to lick honey butter from the pad, staring at Michael with a hopeful smile. “Let’s boil water every morning and indulge in baths. Eat all of Maria’s honey butter. Sit there on the porch and watch Max with hat in hand coming home from wooing Liz,” Alex says, full of hope and determination. “No more campsites, roadside fires, beans, and damn ticks.”

“You wouldn’t get bored?” Michael asks.

Is that why they’ve kept going out there? Michael thinks he’d be bored?

Well, hell, it’s easy to dispel that worry. “With you around? Never.”

Alex yanks Michael’s hat off his head and lets it tumble to the chilly ground, wrapping both arms around his neck as he lifts himself up on his toes to kiss him as hard as he can, a promise that Michael’s more than enough for him, and that this life is all he wants.

“In that case,” Michael says, only once Alex has relented in his attempts to haul him back for more kisses, “I guess I better go make nice in the kitchen, if I’m gonna spend a whole summer stealing food first thing. Then, I’m boiling that water. That’s a promise.”

It all sounds perfect to Alex.

Let the other cowboys have the open road. Alex will take a happy homestead with Michael Guerin over any adventure, because they just don’t know what they’re missing (and they never will).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Boy, I'll Hunt You Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20618945) by [christchex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christchex/pseuds/christchex)


End file.
